


Midnight Blue

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which New Who Companions are the Midnight Society from Are You Afraid of the Dark?</p>
<p>All relationships are purely background, implied, or otherwise offscreen. Sorry, no snogging fourteen-year-olds here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Blue

He can't wait to show Amelia, Rory thinks the first time he spots it. It's perfect, he decides, which is a sentiment he has had about very few things in his short life. If one of them is Amelia, well, who's counting?

“This had better be good, Williams,” Mels warns him even as he swears it is. She fixes him with a skeptical look just before she and Amelia pull on their blindfolds.

“Why do we have to wear these again?” Amelia asks. 

“Because it's a surprise,” Rory reminds her. “And you like surprises.” Appeased, Amelia takes his hand, and tromps after him in her wellies.

The blindfold does the trick, and Amelia is thoroughly confused by the time a beaming Rory tells her to take it off.

“A clearing?” Mels asks, underwhelmed.

“With a fire pit! And stumps and rocks and a cool old stone chair to sit on. And it's really hard to find,” Rory gushes earnestly.

Rory's face falls as three other kids trundle into the space. His face falls as Mels mutters “Apparently not,” just loud enough that he can hear it.

“I thought you said nobody knew about this place, Mickey,” the new girl asks one of her friends, who just scowls and kicks a rock.

“We were here first,” Amelia declares, bounding up onto a stump in her red wellies. “So scram.”

“The whole point is that it was a secret,” Mels reminds her. “We might as well go. Cigarettes to smoke, boys to flirt with.” Amelia and Rory both shoot her a reproachful look.

“Any reason we couldn't share?” the other new boy asks, offering his hand and a pearly smile that shone through his braces. “Jack Harkness.” Mels looks convinced, and accepts the handshake. “This is Rose, and that's Mickey.”

“What were you going to do with it?” Amy asks Rose.

“Tell scary stories,” Rose informs them.

Mels smirks. “We were probably going to gossip about boys, which is the same thing as far as Rory's concerned.” Rory sags onto a boulder.

“That could be fun,” Amelia says, brightening.

“She just wants a new audience,” Mels snickers. “Who wants to go first?” 

“I'll go,” Rose volunteers. “But first we need a proper fire. For the mood, before either of you say anything about how my family can't afford the heat.” She balls a fist at her two friends, and Mels just grins. 

“Come on, let's gather some sticks, then,” Mickey says.

***

An hour later, they have quite a tidy stockpile of wood—enough for quite a few fires, if they are careful, and the stories aren't too long. The only snag comes when they realize they need to light it, and Jack's best efforts at rubbing sticks together aren't as hot as he thinks they ought to be. “Hang on,” Mels says. “I've got...” she pats her pockets and trails off into a curse. Rory blushes, rolls his eyes, and produces her missing lighter. “Thanks, _Dad_.” she mutters, and flicks the fire into life. 

All eyes turn to Rose, and the firelight strikes every highlight in her hair. She relieves the tension with a goofy grin. “I hereby call the inaugural meeting of the Midnight Society to order,” she says, more snark than serious, but the others all nod solemnly and she blinks as she realizes the name has stuck. “We've all walked through department stores, eyes on the latest fashions and the biggest bargains. But we never see what's under the clothes,” Jack interrupts her with a wolf-whistle, “the mannequins themselves,” she continues, cheeks red. “We never stop to wonder what they do when the lights go out and the stores close.” She grins as everyone leans a little closer. “I call this story... The Tale of the Wandering Mannequin!” Everyone nods their approval. “'Run!' John cried as the mall security guard spotted them, obviously playing hooky, and he grabbed Daisy by the hand...”

***

“Is it your turn this week, Jack?” Mickey asks.

“No, it's Amelia's.” He frowns. “She's running late. I hope she shows up...”

“On the other hand, it means we won't have another Raggedy Doctor story,” Rose jokes.

“Says the girl whose main characters are all thinly-veiled versions of herself,” Mels jibes, rising instantly to her friend's defense. “Or didn't you think we would notice that they're all named after flowers?” 

“I gave up the match for this?” Mickey groans, and further bickering is only forestalled by Amelia's appearance, leading a short, dark-haired, blindfolded girl. 

“This is Clara,” Amelia says, “she's new. From Blackpool.” Which, if it isn't Scotland, is at least far enough from London to sound funny. Amelia had cottoned to her quickly, and decided that the new girl needed friends.

“You can't just bring someone in like that,” Rose objects.

“Hello,” Clara says. “Right here, thanks.”

“What if she tells a story?” Rory posits. “A good one? And if we all like it, she's in?” Always the peacemaker, Mels thinks. Just as well she doesn't find that attractive in a man. The others nod, and Amelia leads Clara to the unofficial head of the ring of seats, plunking her down on the seat of stone slabs reserved for that week's storyteller. 

“Most of us are familiar with deja vu,” Clara begins. “Most of us are familiar with deja vu.” She grins prettily at the chorus of groans. The feeling that you've done something before, or will do it in the future. Maybe something you've seen in a past life. Most of us don't believe in it, and demand to be shown the proof. Well, what if you saw the proof?” She pauses for effect, and lowers her voice. “I call this story the Curse of the Impossible Girl...”

***

Clara finished her story, about a girl doomed to repeat her existence, making the same choices and dying young, only to be reborn throughout the centuries until she could finally break the pattern, and sat back, hoping for applause, murmurs, boos—anything that would let her know what her audience thought. Her ears strive for sounds of approval. Instead, solemn silence greets her ears as one by one, the others mull over her work. 

“All those in favor of admission to the Midnight Society?” Rose asks. This, perhaps, is the final test, but Clara doesn't breathe the slightest giggle at the name Rose was still somewhat ashamed to have coined. One by one, all six hands raise. “Congratulations,” she tells Clara as Amelia takes off the blindfold. 

***

The mood is a bit glum with the Society short a pair of members. Mickey's planning to bring a friend of his, Martha, to the next meeting, but that doesn't help matters tonight. “I still can't believe Mels skipped town with that runt, Benjamin,” Clara says, shaking her head. 

“He was cute!” Amelia insists. Rory just rolls his eyes. 

“For a twelve-year-old,” Clara scoffs.

“He's sixteen, actually.” Rory pipes up. “And it'll be good for her; I'll bet she comes back a completely different person.”

“And it's not like all of us fancy our teachers,” Mickey chides Clara, whose big brown eyes turn gimlet at him. She's still too sore that Danny refused her invitation to join the club to laugh off any undue attention to her infatuation with Basil Smith, the music teacher.

“Or hunky college kids in leather jackets,” Amelia continues. “Followed by each of a set of twins.”

“Speaking of which,” Jack interjects, leading an eclectically-dressed pair of girls to the circle. “Meet the Osgoods.”

“Don't tell me you're going to run off with them,” Clara says dryly. The Osgoods blush; they, of course, have heard about Rose through the grapevine. 

“Do you have any other names?” Amelia asks. 

“Just Osgood,” says one.

“And Osgood,” adds the other. Neither one is keen on revealing either Petronella or Bonnie, for their own reasons. 

“Osgood and Osgood, then,” Rory says calmly. “So, has Jack explained the rules to you?” They nod, somehow in unison despite the blindfolds.

“We all do things we regret, every day,” one of the Osgoods begins.

“And if we're lucky, we get a chance to make amends.”

“But sometimes, life gets in the way.” She pauses. “Sometimes, death gets in the way.”

“How far would you go to make things right, if you could?” They smile wickedly. “We call this 'The Tale of the Soldier's Promise.'”

Once the sisters have finished their tale, the others nod, and the vote is unanimous. “Welcome aboard!” Mickey says.


End file.
